TGO Challenge - It Was my 20th Time Y'Know

Loch Duich Sunset Day Minus One

Anyway. the plan, for my 20th TGO crossing, was to try to make it relatively easy because to fail on your 20th TGO crossing (of which this was), would be a proper tragedy. Sooooo  I thought I'd make it a lot easier than my 19th, so as to increase my chances of success. So I chose a sort of beginner's route, starting at Shiel Bridge and ending at St Cyrus. 

Shiel Bridge, you would have thought would be relatively easy to get to. And it all started well. Phil turned up chez Knipe at exactly the right time, Mrs K's car didn't break down and the early start missed the daily traffic jam at Neville's Cross (Neville is often cross) And the train arrived in time too - as opposed to 2024 when it didn't turn up at all. Then, at the point where St Cuthbert's Way crosses the East coast main line, it stopped. An announcement announced that the train immediately ahead had lost traction, or impetus, or something and it wasn't about to move any further North until someone had nipped to a shop in Berwick for a  4 pack of AA batteries and that they could be some time. Then somebody in a control room somewhere decided that we could reverse to Morpeth and select the track to London to bypass the dead train. Apparently the chap delegated to get the batteries was also instructed to come back with a loaf of wholemeal bread, two pork pies and a Daily Mirror. Anyway, he did turn up but had forgotten the newspaper, the dead train revived and we continued along, advised by a large and attentive group of LNER staff to stay on the train till Aberdeen and then catch a specially delayed train to Inverness. In Inverness there was time for some light shopping and a beer before catching the bus to Shiel Bridge.

Worra cracking start to my 20th TGO crossing.

Due to the vagaries of "Blogger" the first set of pictures below are in exactly the wrong order.  Just sayin'

Camp near Allbeithe

On this (my 20th TGO crossing by the way) the plan was to be accompanied by Phil, a prospective TGO challenger for the first three days. This went well. We were accompanied for two days with lovely late-spring weather and one day when it was a bit murky and I noticed a rain-drop. Just the one.

We mooched our way over Bealach an Sgairn into Gleann Gniomhaidh - a route I would highly recommend. It's not too arduous and it follows and excellent well-engineered stalkers path through a beautiful landscape into Glen Affric, where, at Allbeithe Youth Hostel, some yoofs were shivering in the river and playing football. (not in the river). After a starry night beside the same river, we continued down to Loch Affric and over the hill to Cougie. If you've not been to Cougie, you really should go. Details of how to book etc are in the TGO Challenge (20th.....) and the place is run for love rather than profit. We camped in their grounds and were royally fed and watered and it was all rather fab. We could have had beds. Maybe we should have had beds. The loo flushed, too, which is much better than a cat hole in the heather.

After a big Scottish breakfast, the rufty tufty moors and bits of forest and power lines brought us to Fort Augustus and Morag's Lodge hostel where the hostel guitar has a missing it's bottom E string, but otherwise played nicely. Morag's hostel has food and a bar, although I'm never keen on snory, farty, bunk rooms specially when Mr Bladder comes to stay at 3:00 a.m.

In the morning, Phil headed off towards Inverness and I continued lonely over Corriearach Pass to continue my attempt on a 20th TGO crossing. I may have said something about this previously.

I am now going to fool Blogger by selecting the next pictures in reverse order so that they appear in the correct order. 

Oooo that worked well, with the pics.

So, I've never been all that thrilled with the Corrieyarack Pass - for me, it's a plod. It was hot. I found it quite hard and it went on and on for ages. It's very uphill and hard on the tootsies, although you'd have thought that 19 previous TGO challenges would have hardened them up a bit.  Eventually, I turned up at Melgarve Bothy where there were other challengers (nobody else on their 20th, though - I need to check back to make sure I've mentioned this before) and erected my tabernacle and went to bed. More hot plodding in the morning took me to Laggan where the rule about never passing a tea-room kicked in. They sold me lots of food, tea and beer. It were reet grand.

After dicing with death on the A86 with most of the traffic not expecting a 20th Challenger around the next fast bend, I got to Strath an Eilich which leads through to Glen Banchor - one of my favourite bits. I camped at the little bijoux bothy near Dail na Seilig. More challengers passed by and a couple of others camped. A foggy, mizzly night followed but it all lifted in the morning and I made it to Newtonmore and the hostel there around lunchtime and called in briefly. My route was going well so far and no significant bodily damage had been done, so I plodded on to Kingussie for some beer and on to camp a bit short of Glen Feshie for a very quiet night noticing just the one passing challenger, who didn't spot my discreetly pitched tent at all.

Glen Feshie was superb, as usual - called in at the Ruigh Aiteachain bothy but there was nobody there - loads of kids camping outside and on up the glen, diverting around the notorious landslip by paddling the river a couple of times, and dipping in a slippery but beautiful pool near the junction with the River Eidart before crossing the Bridge if Death (Its possible that only Knipe family members will know what this is.) I camped quite a bit short of the Tilt junction and battered on to Braemar in the morning via tea and biccies at Mar Lodge. Braemar was full of TGO challengers and a fairly boozy afternoon and evening was enjoyed at Farquharsons Bar and the little pub behind the Invercauld Arms.

The next day, after a substantial breakfast at The Bothy cafe,  was to be a very short walk up to Callater Lodge which was also heavily populated by TGO challengers and friends and family of Bill Duncan along with a dog or two. There was music and food and general jollity in the packed and cosy lodge.  Mostly people camped outside. I had another dip in Loch Callater in the hot afternoon and was challenged to yet another at 8:00 a.m. the following morning. I thought this was just the whisky talking, but no it wasn't so we had a dip. Discretion prevents me from publishing who my dipping partner was but safe to say, this "freshened" me up no end and the bacon butty and tea provided shortly afterwards set me up for a ramble over the mountains to Loch Muick and a camp by the Burn of Mohamed, where I was joined by a couple of others. Its a lovely spot and much less exposed than the usual camp by the little bothy on the moors at Shielin of Mark.

And, so, to Tarfside where, I avoided the hostel there and camped on the village field.

On the upside, The Lad (son James) turned up with beer and steak and chips AND there was a charity barbeque at the Mason's Arms, so there was beer and TWO dinners. This fact needs to be kept from my Cardiac Nurse.

The Lad walked with me over the moors to the North of Tarfside and then for a section of road and, finally into Edzell by the very fine Rocks of Solitude. Mrs Pieman had hired a cottage behind the butchers shop in Edzell, shared with son James and his wife Michelle, and their pooch Merlin but, even more importantly, Ringo, my dog, who I took for a long doggy walk. Ringo and his pal Merlin spent most of the evening play-fighting and , more or less ignored me, clearly not impressed that I was quite near the end of my 20th TGO crossing. I know my place.

I was back on the road in the morning, sans doggy for the final few miles on to St Cyrus where the beach was deserted. But, having  climbed back up the cliff path, I was greeted by a crocodile of very young schoolchildren along with a couple of teachers - all in high viz and hanging on to their hats in the stiff breeze. The teacher asked me if i'd just done "the walk". I confirmed that I had so she asked the children to give me a round of applause, which they did. I have to say, that this little incident was the absolute best thing about the whole 20th (did I mention this at all?) crossing. It fair cheered me up so it did even though the kids clearly had no idea why they were clapping.

Then James met me and ferried me to Montrose.

So, what have we learned from all this?

First of all, Blogger ambushes the writer by suddenly changing the order in which pictures are posted - mainly doing it in the opposite order to how they are chosen, then, at the end, doing it the other way around, so the last few pictures aren't in the correct order, but I just can't be arsed cutting and pasting them into the correct order.

Secondly, it's within the rules to have somebody walk with you for a few days.

Fourthly (I couldn't think of a thirdly), this was my most enjoyable challenge out of the 18 19 previous ones

Thirdly (just remembered the third one) - I'll probably do it again. 

Final pic of the dinner in the Park Hotel below where I got my slate plaque and a bottle of nice scotch for doing 20 crossings. (Have I mentioned this?)

A Daunder by Any Other Name (Pre TGO challenge Walkies)

 

Camp at Blakethwaite Bottom

It was Alan Sloman (RIP) and Phil Lambert who invented the Pre-TGO challenge Daunder. Usually taking place in April and taking a very relaxed approach to TGO challenge preparation. The pace was deliberately gentle, many brews and snoozes were had and various bars were visited and camping was wild(ish). Not too many miles were walked over the two or three days of the Daunder. I'm slightly nervous about calling this event a Daunder at all. Not many previous daunderers were involved, or even informed and the pace may have been slightly too quick. So, maybe we won't actually use the "D" word at all, in deference to Messrs Sloman and Lambert but there were some similarities. Are you all sitting comfortably? Yes? Then I'll begin.

On the way to the first night's camp

It wasn't actually as tilted as this - the camera was not level. Foggy morning

Heaving ourselves up the first contours.

I'm not sure how the idea came about except to say that it was probably around Christmas during a discussion between me and John Jocys. I provided a route, although it wasn't necessarily set in stone (you have to be flexible, innit?). It was to be in the Howgills. The Howgills is a special sort of place for backpacking. It has cracking views, mainly shortish grass, cracking views and excellent water, And mostly it's fairly quiet - in fact we didn't meet any other walkers until the second day and even then , there were only a few, mainly around The Calf. We each invited a few friends, some of which decided that it was too far away, too many over-friendly contours, or, in two cases, The NHS refused annual leave. So there was just JJ, Gerry (aka Morpeth cos he lives in Morpeth) , Judith and Ringo the dog. We began in Tebay in the traditional manner, at the Cross Keys Inn, which provided beer and lunch and is doggy friendly. Then in mzzly conditions we walked the easiest route possible the five or so miles to Blakethwaite Bottom, where the usual stream had dried up. We camped on a flattish bit and lugged some water from a different beck. The night passed quietly, only disturbed by Ringo's running about and barking dream and my stomach rumbling. In my quest to avoid Ringo raiding my food supply I had hidden it in the his crate, the only place he never goes. For extra security I had placed a guitar at the entrance. One of Ringo's unreasonable fears us guitars. Unfortunately, I forgot to put the food bag in my pack and had to resort to my only source of calories, two packs of oatcakes and a small piece of dark chocolate. I did give my rum supply quite a bit of attention. Breakfast was some more oatcakes. I never want to see an oatcake ever again.

Route Conference

On The Calf (Howgills Highest point)

Ringo can't be tempted out of bed with just a bonio

Long Rigg Beck camp

And so, in the morning at 09:32 sharp we heaved ourselves up the hill and on to the wide and grassy ridge to Fell Head, which me and Ringo and Gerry strolled off to bag, followed by Bush Howe and The Calf and down to Sedbergh, where we discovered that The Black Bull us doggy friendly, as is the Red Lion, just around the corner. Ringo likes Sedbergh.  The Meat Hook butchers shop sold me a pie and some bacon and the Grocers sold me breadbuns, chicken broth and a satsuma. So my food problem was solved. The Black Bull also sold me a beef sandwich and some beer, so all was well with the world. A team "conference" determined that we were running a bit late and that a wander up the Roman Road that is Howgill Lane woyld be easier and quicker than the path along the intake wall. So that's what we did, rescuing a ewe with it's head stuck in a fence, chatting with a farmer and, a bit later his daughter and grand-daughter who were out checking the sheep. The daughter recommended a camping spot, which turned out to be the one on the original plan anyway. So we camped there. A lovely, quiet night followed, undisturbed by any digestive rumblings.

Heading back to the road

A brew stop at Carlingill Beck

So we returned to the Roman Road and Tebay, brewing along the way and having another friendly chat with another farmer checking her sheep, whilst her little dog, Meg played with a deflated football. Unfortunately, it is with deep regret that I have to report that the Cross Keys in Tebay didn't open till seven o'clock and we decided not to wait.....

The Pennine Inn in Kirkby Stephen was open, though, so....

We might do a similar thing next year, whether or not people are taking part in the TGO challenge - neither Judith nor Gerry were going to do this year. But it's a good thing to do and a small group is more fun. And the pubs were good, and the farmers and their dogs were friendly. 

And the lesson for me was to check the flipping pack has everything in it. One day, I'll forget the tent.....

Back to the Back O' Skidda

 

Morning View From The Tabernacle

Some readers who are particularly attentive or otherwise psychic will suspect by now that in May I will be setting off on the TGO Challenge. (my 20th should I complete it.)  Those who don't know what this is are advised that a Google search will provide a huuuuuge amount of detail. 

Anyway, as it involves walking about 200 miles with a stupidly heavy weight on the back will appreciate that a) It's probably a good idea to train a bit and b) Its not very long to go.

Ringo mentioned that we'd not been backpacking for a bit and that wouldn't it be better if we had a little trip somewhere quite soon. For the training.

So we did.

First camp sheltered from a nithering breeze

Ringo the dingo - seems to be in a good mood

Snow Storm on High Pike doesn't distract Ringo from the serious business of marking his territory

We went around the back of Skiddaw - an relatively quiet area of the Lake District, where in midweek March little notice would be taken of some discreet camping and some indiscreet snoring. 

I'm not going to delve into any statistics about how far it was or how much uphill we did on the grounds that the extremely low numbers would be an embarrassment to an energetic full-o-beans pooch like Ringo, although, honesty wouldn't bother me at all. I expect we could have covered more distance given any kind of plan or being determined and not lazy.

But we set off hopefully and marched with chins held high in a British sort of way and gave up in the face of a mini blizzard and a rather lovely camping spot in what turned out to be a lovely suntrap once the evil spiky shower of tiny lumps of wind-driven hard snow had drifted off towards Denmark. We didn't feel guilty at all and soon snuggled into our warm bags with the radio, hot food, kibble and winalot (dog) and some rough whisky to while away the 12 or so hours of chilly darkness. and, since we're being lazy, also the following five hours of morning sunshine. It took that long for the ice on the tent to melt.

Lingy Hut in the distance

Ringo says he's never been to Carrock Fell - well, tough...

Sunshine draws us off the hill

Blizzards returned as we eventually climbed on to the tops, taking brief shelter in Lingy Hut. We were tempted to stay, but as we'd only been walking for about an hour, this was taking lassitude one step too far. We were putting far too much effort in being lazy - so we plodded on. Showers cam and showers went, each one stingingly painful (or painfully stinging). At some point in the afternoon, maybe 90 minutes before sunset, and in yet the fiercest squall of the day, and surrounded by bumpy tussocks, whilst sheltering in a peat hag, Ringo mentioned that the bit of grass we were on would just about take a small tent and that we were next to the beck for water AND that he hadn't eaten for over an hour and was pining for his winalot and a lovely Mini Jumbone.

So we put up the tent and snuggled in once more. the pitch was a little tilted, though and this lead top a certain amount of sliding towards the door and the tent taking on a jaunty angle.

Ringo is an excellent tent dog, despite his farm-dog border collie heritage. In fact he's really lazy once he gets into his woofbag. He refuses to join in with the celebration of a midnight visit from Mr Bladder, especially if the weather is on the grim side.  Once he's in, he waits for dawn.

We had our tea, finished the whisky and read the book until the headlight batteries failed.

And in the sunny morning, with ice on the tent we looked out to see the nearby hills beautiful and white.

So we buggerred off.

The pitch was a little tilted.